


Almost

by MarieBloom



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Protective Bellamy, Sad Bellamy, gun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieBloom/pseuds/MarieBloom
Summary: Based on the scene from season 3 episode 13. Bellamy considered suicide at the shore. If Octavia hated him so much, should he continue living?





	Almost

Bellamy stared at the waves lapping up against the shore, reflecting. His hand was shaking and placed on the gun at his side. He knew he had messed up big-time with Octavia. She wouldn’t even look at him most of the time and even when she did he couldn’t stand that dead stare as if she didn’t notice he was there.

Lincoln had been her everything. Because the people on the Ark had despised her for even existing and the Trikru people hated her for thinking she could become one of them after the one hundred had killed so many of their own, Lincoln had been her only home. Everything she did had been for him.

But everything he did had been for her. He had promised this to his mother and to her that he would make sure she was safe, no matter the cost. He so badly regretted letting her go to that dance. If only he hadn’t.

And then Lincoln happened. He had been afraid that if she went with him, the Trikru would have killed her or worse for presuming too much. If he was honest with himself, maybe he had joined Pike because hating the Trikru for abandoning them at Mount Weather was easier than hating himself for murdering five hundred men, women, and children. Everyone had looked at him like he was a hero because they thought it was only Clarke who had pulled that lever.

He hadn’t known that Pike would kill Lincoln. If he had, he would never have joined him because Octavia’s happiness was all that mattered. He looked back at her as she stared intensely at the fire. He could tell she was taking that Trikru saying way too much to heart.

_A warrior does not mourn until after the battle is over_

What a load of crap. If she kept her pain bottled up inside too long, it would destroy her. That was why he had let her beat him up. She had had to let some of it out somehow, and he had deserved it for letting that happen. If hating him helped her, he would accept it.

He returned to watching the waves, as the tide came in. If he left, would she even miss him? Would she be glad he was dead? Would she believe that it fulfilled that other Trikru saying?

_Blood must have blood_

Maybe he should end it. Maybe it would be better that way. Maybe he deserved it for being such a fool.

For so long, he had only disappointed her, made her miserable. It wasn’t like they needed him. Clarke, gloriously strong and beautiful Clarke. She could do it all herself. They didn’t really need him.

  
He looked down at his gun. Now his whole body was shaking. He was going to do it. He was actually going to do it.

  
Just as he moved to pull it out of his holster, Clarke came walking down and stood beside him.

  
It was possible she sensed his despair. And she had come to support him. Maybe someone did care if he lived. So he took his hand away from the gun and decided to hold out longer.

  
He promised himself he would never tell anyone how close he had come, how he had almost broken his promise to stay by Octavia’s side and keep her safe.

Everyone would think he was weak, and they needed him to be strong, as leaders always have to be.


End file.
